


I Scraped My Knee Falling For You

by TheNameIsBritney



Category: Glee
Genre: Blaine's a music teacher, Kurt is the school nurse, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, kurt's married, or is he????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25503832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNameIsBritney/pseuds/TheNameIsBritney
Summary: Middle school music teacher Blaine Anderson meets the new school nurse, Kurt Hummel, in a rather unfortunate way and develops a big crush. Kurt is perfect in every conceivable way, smart, witty, gorgeous... and married.Or is he?
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 31
Kudos: 153





	I Scraped My Knee Falling For You

**Author's Note:**

> tw mentions of blood! it's not graphic but if the thought of someone bleeding makes u uneasy, tread lightly!

"Mr. Anderson, I-I'm so, _so_ sorry!"

Blaine laughed weakly, clutching his bleeding palm in a desperate attempt to stop the blood. "It's alright, Noah, it's just a small cut." He smiled at Noah calmly.

Noah twisted the hem of his shirt around in his hands nervously, eyes glued to the cut on Blaine's palm. "I... are you sure you're okay?" he asked meekly. 

"Of course!" he said brightly, despite the throbbing pain that coursed through his hand. "I can leave you in charge of the classroom while I go to the nurse, right?"

Blaine had never seen more determination in the eyes of a 13-year-old in his entire life. Noah nodded and Blaine cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the roomful of curious teenagers. 

"I'm going to step out for a moment to go to the nurse's office," Blaine said, smiling at Noah who was staring at the class, stone-faced (in an _adorable_ attempt to look tough). "Keep working on your harmony and melody worksheets. I'll have Ms. Clemmons check on you in a few minutes if I'm not back."

The classroom erupted into quiet mutters as Blaine stepped out into the hall. He took a deep breath and began the short walk to the nurse's office, decidedly not looking at the cut on his hand. He'd never been the best with blood.

He reached the office and knocked quietly once, waiting until he heard a quiet ' _come in_ ' before he pushed open the door.

_Oh._

There was a man sitting where Anita, the school nurse, usually sat, legs primly crossed as he chatted to a young girl wearing her gym uniform.

The first thing Blaine noticed was a pair of clear blue of his eyes piercing into his own. _Wow._

"Afternoon," the man said. His voice was high and clear as a bell. Blaine never wanted to listen to anything else. "Maya, if you're feeling better you can go. Gym should be over by now." He tossed Maya a wink, causing her to erupt into giggles. 

Maya grabbed her backpack and brushed past Blaine, leaving him alone with the new nurse. The man in question gave him a small smile, eyes flickering between Blaine's face and where he was clutching his hand. "How can I help you?"

"You're not Anita," Blaine said almost automatically. He resisted the urge to smack himself on the forehead when the man's smile dimmed just slightly.

"No, I'm not. She retired," he said stiffly, "I'm Kurt. Now... are you gonna let me look at your hand, or do you want me to sit here and watch you bleed out?"

"Sorry! I-I didn't mean... I was just surprised," Blaine said with an awkward smile. "I'm Blaine. Anderson. I teach music."

A funny smirk grew on Kurt's face as he reached into a cupboard for a tube of antibacterial ointment. "Okay, Blaine Anderson, music teacher," he said with a chuckle, "why don't you wash your hands over there and I'll see if I can't help you with that nasty cut, hmm?"

Blaine nodded absently, walking over to the faucet in the corner of the room. He winced as the warm water hit his cut, scrubbing away the excess dried blood with a little bit of hand soap. 

When his hands were finally clean and dry, he turned to Kurt who nodded towards a chair, smiling kindly. Blaine felt captivated.

"So, Mr. Anderson," Kurt said, "unfortunate run in with Edward Scissorhands?"

Blaine chuckled a little too profusely as Kurt took his hand. _Kurt's hands were so soft..._

"Um... not exactly," he said, "turns out it's not such a good idea to combine a hyperactive teenager with those guillotine-esque paper cutters."

Kurt wrinkled his nose sympathetically as he squeezed a little bit of Neosporin out onto his finger. "Ouch."

"Mhm," Blaine hummed. He held his breath when Kurt crowded his space and began gently rubbing the ointment into his cut. He suddenly felt thankful that he'd spontaneously dabbed some of the cologne Cooper had given him for his birthday on his neck and wrists that morning. "So, um... you're new?"

Kurt looked up at him through his eyelashes and smiled, sending Blaine's heart into a veritable tizzy. "I started working here about two months ago, actually." He wiped his hand on a tissue and unwound a small amount of gauze from the roll. "I'm something of a hermit, I suppose."

Blaine chuckled. "I was just thinking... I definitely would've noticed you if I'd seen you at a staff meeting or something," he said, trying his best to channel some of his old (long unused) prep school charm.

From the way Kurt's cheeks pinked pleasantly, it worked.

"Well, I can't help but pull focus," he said quietly, a pleased smile on his face.

Blaine grinned to himself as Kurt wrapped the bandage around his hand carefully. He was close enough to see the flecks of blonde highlights that ran through Kurt's chestnut brown quiff. 

"There you go!" Blaine looked down and saw Kurt finish wrapping up his hand, fastening the bandage with a bandage clip. "Your cut shouldn't take long to heal."

"Oh..." Blaine couldn't help the disappointment that set in when Kurt rolled away from him on his desk chair. "I... when should I take off the bandage?"

"You should change the bandage each day," Kurt said, not looking at Blaine as he put his supplies away. "And keep the cut moist or else it'll scar." He turned to Blaine then, a smirk growing on his face. "A little petroleum jelly goes a long way."

Blaine flushed under Kurt's smug gaze. "I... right. Yeah. I-I think I have some of that at home," he said with a slightly forced chuckle, "I'll do that. Thanks, Kurt."

He took one last look at Kurt's face before exiting the office and walking back to his classroom in a hurry, his mind occupied with soft, nimble fingers and kind blue eyes.

* * *

After Blaine's cut healed, to his disappointment, he found himself not having an excuse to visit Kurt's office again. After just two weeks, he began to miss those eyes...and that _smile_.

But that didn't stop him from gazing longingly at his closed office door and wondering what Kurt was doing whenever he passed by.

He walked into the staff room on Monday morning and made a beeline for the coffee machine. Blaine had barely gotten any sleep the previous night since Cooper had invited a _lady friend_ over who seemed to share his penchant for speaking (and moaning) loudly in moments of... intensity.

The coffee machine hummed to life and Blaine closed his eyes, revelling in the silence of the empty teacher's on an early morning.

"Morning!"

Well, that didn't last long. Blaine opened his eyes and turned around, a sleepy smile growing on his face when he saw Kurt standing behind him, an empty mug dangling from his right hand.

"Oh, good morning, Kurt," Blaine said, taking his now-full mug and moving out of the way. "How are you?" His eyes flickered towards Kurt's fingers as he worked the machine.

"Oh, I'm... I'm good... _now_ ," he said softly, drumming his fingers against the counter. He looked over at Blaine and tilted his head. "Busy weekend?"

Blaine pursed his lips and shook his head, leaning one hip against the counter. "I um... I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh." Blaine momentarily wondered if Kurt's smile had actually faltered or if were just his sleep deprived imagination. "Lucky you."

Lucky... _oh._ "No! N-no, not... not in that way," Blaine said hurriedly, "I-I meant my brother. He invited someone over last night and they... uh..." he was floundering. "I-I haven't missed sleep because of _that_ in a while." He was so busy stumbling over his words that he barely noticed Kurt begin to giggle behind his coffee mug.

"That's... good to know," Kurt said, eyes twinkling with quiet mischief. "I see your cut has healed up quite nicely."

Blaine looked down at his palm and nodded, rubbing over where the wound used to be. "Yeah, thanks to you," he said, "the... the petroleum jelly helped."

Kurt smirked. "I knew it would." His eyes flickered down to Blaine's mug and his smirk softened. "I like your mug."

The mug in question was one Blaine had gotten as a gift from his seventh grade class two years ago. On it was a picture from their class field trip to Engelman Recital Hall, the words _'world's best seventh grade music teacher!'_ written along the handle in bright pink. It was Blaine's most prized possession. 

He smiled bashfully. "Thanks," he said, fondly rubbing his thumb against the handle. "'World's best' might be a bit of an exaggeration, though."

"Oh, I don't think so," Kurt said, "from what I've heard, you're rather popular with the students."

Blaine smirked. "Kurt, have you been asking about me?"

Kurt took a slow sip of his coffee. "Angie Harris in your eighth grade class stopped by for an Advil last week," he said with a shrug, "one thing led to another. Did you know, she thinks you're 'completely dreamy'?"

Blaine chuckled, his cheeks heating up. "Angie is a great student," he said, "she's also not very subtle when she stares."

Kurt laughed brightly and Blaine grinned. He counted that as a success. 

Then, Kurt turned, taking his left hand out of his pocket. Something metallic and shiny glinted against the lights and Blaine's heart sank. 

A wedding ring.

How he hadn't noticed the ring two weeks ago when Kurt was patching up his cut, Blaine wasn't sure... but now that he'd seen it, there it sat on the forefront of his mind, gleaming derisively at him.

"Um... I'm sorry," Blaine mumbled. Kurt stopped in the middle of his anecdote about a student who'd come in with a fake limp. In his disappointment, Blaine hadn't even noticed him start to speak. He mustered up a small smile when Kurt looked at him, an unfairly adorable look of confusion on his face. "I-I forgot... I need to go to my classroom for... for something."

He gave Kurt a polite nod before grabbing his mug and leaving the room, only just missing the look of disappointment that fell on Kurt's face.

* * *

Blaine had never thought of himself as having a particularly addictive personality. In fact, he prided himself on knowing the importance of restraint.

But after that first visit to Kurt's office, Blaine found himself yearning for more despite the eyeful of wedding ring he'd received just days ago. 

"Hi, Blaine." The sound of Kurt's voice made Blaine's heart thump just a bit harder. "Everything alright?"

Blaine smiled sheepishly, holding up his maimed finger. "Paper cut," he said with a chuckle, "got a bandaid?"

Kurt shook his head, reaching into his drawer. "Disney, Marvel, or Barbie?"

"Depends," Blaine said, "are there any Daisy Duck bandaids?"

Kurt pulled a bandaid out of the box and laughed as he unwrapped it. "You're a strange one, Mr. Anderson."

Blaine tried not to grin too widely as Kurt affixed the bandaid to his finger. "I get that a lot." He wiggled his finger about once the bandaid was on, looking up just in time to catch Kurt's soft smile. 

"I'll bet."

* * *

"Mr. Anderson! Back so soon?" Kurt asked as Blaine pushed open his door, "careful, or I'm going to start thinking you're hurting yourself _just_ to see me."

The mirth in his voice made Blaine feel like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

"As much as I do enjoy your company," Blaine started, "I just got stung by a wasp." Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Recess duty."

"Okay, invalid, go wash your sting and I'll get you a cold pack," Kurt said, shaking his head amusedly. "if you're _really_ good, I'll give you a lollipop."

The urge to say something flirty got caught in Blaine's throat when he caught another glimpse of Kurt's ring, glimmering under the fluorescent office lights.

He cleared his throat instead, dabbing at his now cleaned sting with a paper towel. He mumbled a quiet 'thank you' when Kurt offered him the cold pack, pressing it to his arm gently. 

When Kurt sat next to him and gently applied a thin layer of hydrocortisone cream to the sting, Blaine winced. 

Not because the sting hurt. But because he could feel the cool metal of Kurt's wedding ring pressing against the underside of his forearm.

* * *

It was a combination of things that had done it.

First, the janitor had forgotten to put up the 'wet floor' sign next to the freshly mopped stairwell. 

Second, Blaine had _just_ gotten a coffee and was feeling the effects of the caffeine surging through him extra strongly. 

Third, Blaine had _also_ just discovered the cast album for Groundhog Day: The Musical and was in a particularly overzealous mood.

As he attempted an overly ambitious dance move down the stairs, his foot slipped and sent him careening down the few remaining steps. The coffee that had once been in his mug found new residence on his shirt, the initial temperature shock making Blaine hiss sharply. 

He hobbled over to Kurt's office, one hand pulling his sopping shirt away from his chest. What was once hot coffee was beginning to grow cold and uncomfortable against his skin. 

When he pushed open Kurt's door, he smiled sheepishly, dropping himself into a chair as Kurt got up.

"Oh, my God, Blaine," Kurt gasped. Blaine's mind secretly (shamefully) strayed to the gutter, filing Kurt's words and tone away for... later. "What happened?!"

"I might've tripped and fallen down the stairs," he said with a groan, stretching out his leg, "I think I twisted my ankle."

"Here, put your foot up," Kurt said, gently lifting Blaine's leg and placing it onto a stool. "I like your shirt's bold new pattern," he said with a sarcastic smile. Blaine laughed despite his discomfort.

"That 'pattern' is a rather unfortunate coffee stain," he muttered, "I was holding a full cup when I fell."

"I have a spare shirt in my drawer if you'd like to borrow it," Kurt said, head tilting in thought. "It's white, though. Can I trust you not to fall down anymore stairs while holding coloured beverages?"

"Don't worry, I'll stick to water for the rest of the day," Blaine said with a glib smile.

Kurt handed him a white dress shirt from his drawer and Blaine looked around awkwardly. 

Kurt rolled his eyes. "We're both adults, Blaine, you can change in front of me."

Blaine let out a chuckle before unbuttoning the first button on his polo and pulling it off, wrinkling his nose as the air conditioned air hit his damp chest. He felt eyes on him as he tried to fold his soiled polo. He glanced over at Kurt who was standing stock still, eyes wide and cheeks pink. He slid Kurt's shirt over his shoulders and furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you alright, Kurt?"

Kurt shut his mouth and forced a smile. "Yep!" he said, turning around and practically sticking his head in the freezer as he searched for an ice pack. 

...Had he been... _staring_? Surely not, Blaine thought as he fiddled with his shirt buttons. Kurt was married. Happily married. Probably.

Still, Blaine preened just the tiniest bit at the thought of Kurt admiring him in the same way Blaine had him. 

"Um... do you have class soon?" Kurt asked, walking over to Blaine and taking a seat. 

Blaine shook his head, wincing as Kurt gently placed the ice pack over his throbbing ankle. "Not until fourth period."

"I suppose I'll have to keep you here until then," Kurt said with an over-exaggerated eye roll, "so you can... rest your ankle, of course."

"Of course," Blaine parroted quietly, a grin of his own steadily growing on his face.

Then, as Blaine sat there, his ankle slowly growing numb, a quiet, melodic hum filled the air. Blaine watched in awe as Kurt hummed absentmindedly and brandished a roll of gauze. 

"You have a beautiful voice," Blaine said quietly. 

Kurt whipped around, looking at Blaine like he hadn't realised he'd been making any noise at all. "Oh!" A light, pretty blush grew on Kurt's cheeks. "Thank you! I actually... I studied musical theatre for a few years before switching to nursing."

"Why'd you switch?"

Kurt bit his lip. "In my sophomore year of college, my dad had a heart attack. His second one," he said quietly, "I took some time off school to help my stepmom take care of him. I ended up staying for a year. And I mean, my stepmom's a nurse, so... I ended up just switching my major after a while." 

Blaine wanted nothing more than to reach out and take Kurt's hand or give him a hug... do _something_ to get that sad look off his face. "That's... I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"It's okay," he said, fixing a wry smile onto his face. "He's doing great, now. He could probably do without me calling him and Carole up every week to make sure he's staying away from red meat and butter, but... he's alive." 

"I'm glad," Blaine said, hoping his smile said enough. From the way Kurt blushed and smiled back, Blaine assumed he'd succeeded.

"Anyway, Mr. Anderson," Kurt said after a moment of tense silence, "we're going to be here icing your ankle for a while. Tell me, how did you get into teaching?"

"It's not anywhere near as noble as your story, I'm afraid," Blaine said, wrinkling his nose, "my dad wanted me to do business and I wanted to perform. Teaching kind of felt like a... a happy compromise."

"Performing, huh?" Kurt's eyes flickered down to Blaine's hands, "concert pianist?"

Blaine laughed. "No, uh... I wanted to study musical theatre, too, actually." 

A smile grew on Kurt's face, bright and captivating. "Well... look at us."

Blaine smiled back. "Look at us, indeed."

* * *

After a month of casual chats and casual _ties_ (Blaine could be so darn clumsy at times), Blaine was beginning to tentatively toy with the idea of advancing their relationship from work acquaintances to _actual_ friends.

Blaine entered Kurt's office with two Starbucks cups in hand. The smile Kurt gave him would be enough to keep Blaine going for weeks.

"Ugh, you're a lifesaver," Kurt groaned, taking the cup from Blaine and taking the cap off. "I don't get why Principal Garner won't just buy a new coffee machine for the staff lounge. It's been broken for two weeks."

Blaine smirked. "That's because Principal Garner has a Keurig in his office," he said blankly. He glanced at Kurt who had dipped his finger into the whipped cream on the top of his mocha, watching with a steadily drying mouth as he licked the cream off his finger. "Um..."

Kurt looked up, lips pursed around his index finger. He blinked innocently. "Yes?" he asked once he'd finished, wiping his hand on a tissue.

Blaine cleared his throat (and mind) and gave Kurt a tentative smile. "We're friends, right, Kurt?"

Kurt smiled, and Blaine's heart flew multiple loops. "I told you about my drunken tattoo and tongue piercing, Blaine," he said with a chuckle, "I don't tell that story to just anyone."

Blaine grinned bashfully, the apples of his cheeks rounding out. "Oh. Good, good," he said softly, "and friends can text each other, right?"

Kurt rested his chin in the palm of his hand. "Blaine, is this your adorably unsubtle way of asking me for my number?"

Blaine blushed. "...yes." He handed his phone to Kurt and gleefully watched as he added his phone number to his contacts list.

"I'm just warning you," Kurt started, adding a smirking cat emoji after his surname. "You should expect a lot of live commentary about Project Runway."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Later, when Blaine was alone in his classroom, he would find himself staring at their empty text thread for just a tad too long.

* * *

For weeks, Blaine happily texted, talked to, and hung out with Kurt, content to keep their relationship completely platonic as long as it meant he could simply _be_ in his company. 

Until the unofficial faculty Christmas party. 

Ginger, the kind and appropriately fiery art teacher, insisted on hosting the party at her apartment, persuading Blaine with promises of free alcohol and food. 

So, the night of the last day of school before winter break, Blaine donned his favourite Christmas sweater and caught a cab to Ginger's apartment, awkwardly holding a bottle of wine and a neatly wrapped hostess gift. 

Ginger opened the door and squealed when she saw Blaine. She'd obviously been partaking in some loaded eggnog. 

"Evening, Ginger," Blaine said amusedly, handing the present to her. "I brought you a little something for your trouble." He stepped into the apartment and looked around, appreciating the bright decor. He could see every colour conceivable to the human eye, and yet somehow... it worked. 

"Aw, thank you, Blaine!" Ginger cried, holding his now unwrapped gift, a dog-sized Christmas sweater that said _merry Pupmas!_ on the back. "Peanut is gonna look _so adorable_ in this!" 

"Well, I remembered seeing a picture of him on your desk," Blaine replied, "I couldn't resist."

Ginger hugged the tiny garment to her chest. "I love it, thank you," she said, "now, why don't you go get a drink? Luckily for you, Kurt arrived just a few minutes before you did."

Blaine stalled, blood rising to his cheeks. "Wh-why do you say 'luckily' for me?" he asked. 

Ginger gave him a confused look. "Just... you two are friends, aren't you?" she asked, "Dianna and I saw you two getting coffee together last week."

"Oh," Blaine said, forcing a nonchalant chuckle, "right. Thanks, Ginger." He let out a soft breath as he brushed past her and walked to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine. 

"Hey, Stranger." 

Blaine jumped, grinning when he saw Kurt standing beside him, an empty glass in his hand. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright.

He looked beautiful.

"Hi, Kurt," Blaine said, letting out a joyful giggle at Kurt's sweater. There was a picture of a kitten on the front, head poking out of a Christmas stocking cheekily. Somehow, Kurt managed to make it look like haute couture. "I like your sweater."

Kurt grinned, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Thanks," he said, gesturing towards Blaine's sweater. "I like yours."

Blaine preened, his hand brushing against the giant bow in the centre that made him look like a giant wrapped present. "It was a gift, funnily enough."

He filled up both his and Kurt's glasses before letting himself be dragged to the couch, revelling in the feeling of Kurt's soft hand around his wrist. Blaine sat down, holding his breath when Kurt plopped down next to him. They were pressed together practically hip to thigh. He tried to distract himself by taking a careful sip of his wine, savouring the sweet taste on his tongue.

"So, do you have any plans for winter break?" Kurt asked, looking at Blaine over the rim of his glass.

Blaine swallowed nervously under Kurt's heady gaze. "Um... not really," he said, "Cooper and I usually stay home, marathon bad hallmark movies, and exchange gifts." 

"That sounds nice." Kurt's voice was quiet, a fondness in his tone that made Blaine's heart ache.

"What about you?" he asked, "going home?" 

Kurt smiled, looking down at the ground. "Yep," he sighed, "flying out tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh," Blaine murmured. He looked into his glass for a moment before giving Kurt a besotted smile. "Well... I'll miss seeing you around."

"Oh, Blaine..." Kurt pressed their shoulders together firmly. "It's only two weeks," he said, shaking his head. "I... I'll miss you, too, though."

Blaine hadn't noticed how close they'd gotten until he inhaled, the sweet scent of Kurt's cologne filling his nose.

"Oh, my God!" Kurt exclaimed suddenly, bolting up from his seat.

Blaine followed him helplessly with his eyes. "Wh-what?"

"Your Christmas present!" Kurt said, putting down his wine glass and beaming at Blaine excitedly, "I almost forgot!"

"Wha--" Blaine let Kurt take his hand and drag him towards the coat closet, "Kurt, you didn't have to get me anything."

"Oh, nonsense, I saw it on my walk home and just _had_ to get it for you." Kurt opened the closet door and rifled around for a few minutes in search for his coat. "Found it!"

Blaine watched, amused, as Kurt pulled a small package from his coat pocket, brandishing it proudly. "Kurt..." he said, laughing as he took the present. "Thank you."

Kurt was practically bouncing on his toes. "Open it!"

Blaine gave Kurt a delighted smile before gently unwrapping the gift, taking care not to tear the paper. He opened the small box and let out a pleased giggle. "Aw, Kurt!" he said, carefully taking out the bowtie shaped brooch and admiring it. "It's _beautiful."_ He ran his fingers gently across the grooves of the painted metal. His cheeks were beginning to ache from smiling.

"I found it at a thrift store near my place." Kurt bit his lip. "Do you like it?"

Blaine gently pinned it to his collar. "I love it," he said, "I'm only sorry I didn't get you anything."

Then, a strange look came across Kurt's face. The kind of look Blaine had only even dreamed of being on the receiving end of.

Kurt reached out and tweaked the wool bow that sat in the middle of his sweater. "That's okay," he said quietly, lip caught between his teeth. "Maybe... you could be my present this year."

"I--" Blaine stammered, flushing under the heat of Kurt's stare. Despite his better judgement, he reached out, gently gripping Kurt's forearm as he leaned in.

Their lips barely brushed, Kurt's warm breath mingling with his, before Blaine pulled away. Every bone in his body screamed at him to go back. To rush into Kurt's arms and kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

But then his brain remembered the sickening shine of Kurt's wedding ring under the nurse's office lights.

Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach in a way he knew he couldn't blame on the tiny sip of wine he'd had. 

"Kurt, stop."

Kurt looked at Blaine, holding a hand up over his mouth. "What? Why?" he sniffed quietly, "do I have wine breath?"

"N-no, I..." Blaine shook his head, taking a full step away from Kurt and sidestepping him to get his coat out of the closet. "I-I can't be someone's 'other woman', Kurt, I just can't."

"What--"

"--Have a good Christmas," he said quietly, sadly. He took one last look at Kurt before walking out of Ginger's apartment, keeping his head down as he walked down the hall. 

Blaine spent the entire cab ride home in a daze, keeping his eyes fixated on the floor as he stubbornly ignored his phone vibrating rapidly in his pocket. He paid the driver and stepped out of the cap, pausing outside the steps to his building.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, but it slipped through his fingers. He scrambled to catch it, watching helplessly as it fell through the grates of a drainage gutter.

The whole situation was so over-the-top devastating that Blaine would've laughed if he hadn't feel like crying.

* * *

The two weeks passed in a haze of self-pity and re-runs of _Love, Actually_. Blaine kept repeating the last few minutes of Ginger's Christmas party over and over again in his head, unable to get the smell of Kurt's cologne and the taste of his breath out of his mind.

As winter break came to a quiet end, Blaine found himself dragging his feet as he approached the school gates, one cup of coffee in hand instead of his usual two. 

The smell of lemon carpet cleaner and ageing paper filled Blaine's nose as he walked into his classroom. He approached his desk and raised his eyebrows slowly.

Sat prim and neat on the centre of his desk was an envelope, his name written on it in slightly haphazard cursive.

He gently tore open the envelope and pulled out the card inside.

_**Come to my office at lunch? -Kurt** _

Blaine turned the card around slowly in his hands, the memory of him running out on Kurt rushing towards him like a freight train. The hours until lunch moved slowly, every period stretching into what felt like days. 

Soon enough, the fateful bell rung and Blaine watched anxiously as his students began filing out of his classroom. Once the last students left, Blaine allowed himself to stew in the silence, just briefly, before picking himself up and walking to Kurt's office.

With each step, he swore he could hear his heartbeat grow louder.

He reached Kurt's door and hesitated before knocking. Blaine heard Kurt's soft, melodic voice say ' _come in_ ', and suddenly he was taken back to that day, months ago, when he and Kurt had first met.

He pushed open the door and let in a shaky breath. There Kurt was. He was standing in front of his desk, wiping his hands on his thighs. He looked nervous. Blaine allowed himself to find brief comfort in that. 

"Hi."

Kurt managed a smile, though it looked forced. "Hi." His voice was soft. Blaine wanted to soak his ears in it. "I texted... and called. You didn't answer, so I stopped."

"Yeah, I..." Blaine huffed out a humourless laugh. "When I got back to my apartment on the night of the... um... the Christmas party, I accidentally dropped my phone down the gutter in front of my apartment."

"Oh." Kurt raised his perfectly groomed eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah. I had to get a new phone. Lost all my contacts," he said with another sheepish chuckle, "d'you know how hard it was trying to find my best friend from high school's mother's phone number again? I mean, no one keeps their information on Facebook anymore."

Kurt giggled quietly. The sound made Blaine grin. 

"So, you weren't ignoring me," Kurt said, relief colouring his voice. 

"Not on purpose, no." _I don't think I could ignore you if I tried._ Blaine pressed his lips shut and looked around until the tense silence became too much. "Kurt, why did you ask me to come here?"

Kurt hesitated, a quiet breath escaping his lips (his _beautiful, kissable_ lips). "I have some explaining to do," he said, gesturing towards one of the chairs with his left hand. 

Blaine sat, his heart stopping in his chest when he saw Kurt's ringless finger. 

_Did I do that?_

"Do you know Chandler?" Kurt asked suddenly, "Mr. Kiehl? He teaches English."

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. "Um... yes, I know Chandler." _Please don't tell me you're married to Chandler._

"When I first started working here, he kind of took it upon himself to be my 'guide'. He showed me around, ate lunch with me, talked to me when I didn't have anyone else..." Kurt furrowed his eyebrows. "I thought he was just offering to be my friend."

Blaine resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Practically everyone on Staff knew about Chandler's... overly enthusiastic ways.

"Then, after a month, he started hitting on me. He was laying it on really, _really_ thick," Kurt continued, "I didn't really mind at first. In fact, I was sort of flattered, but... it got to be way too much." He paused, lips tight like he was ashamed. "So, I took the cowards way out."

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. "You... got married?"

Kurt laughed. "No, no, I... I stopped by a thrift store and bought the cheapest ring I could find." He rubbed over the base of his ring finger. "It wasn't even real gold, just painted copper. It left my finger green for weeks."

"So... you pretended to be married to get Chandler to stop flirting with you?"

Kurt hesitated. "When you say it like that, it sounds kind of ridiculous," he said with an uneasy chuckle. "Anyway, it worked and I thought I'd gotten away with it scot-free until..." Kurt looked down.

Blaine ducked his head to try and meet Kurt's gaze. "Until...?"

When Kurt finally looked up at him, his eyes were sparkling with emotion in a way that made Blaine's heart race.

"Until I met you."

All the air left Blaine's lungs and he tried desperately to tamp down his elated smile. "Me?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, you," he said, "you came blustering in here, bleeding like the Trevi fountain with that adorable bewildered look on your face."

Blaine laughed shyly, wrinkling his nose at the memory.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, "I should've told you the truth but you never asked, so... I thought you hadn't noticed."

A million thoughts rushed around Blaine's head, making him dizzy. In the end, he decided not to listen to any of them, instead choosing to take Kurt's (thankfully bare) hand and pull him close. 

"So, just to reiterate..." Blaine stood up and tangled their fingers together. "Not married?" 

"Definitely not."

"Thank God."

Then, Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist and pulled him close until they were chest to chest and finally did what he'd been dreaming of for months. He sealed his lips over Kurt's.

His lips tasted like Juicyfruit gum and coffee, a strange yet enticing combination. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders and inhaled sharply, practically breathing him in. After a few (perfect, amazing, _breathtaking)_ seconds, they separated, though they never dropped their gazes. 

Blaine grinned, stroking the small of Kurt's back. "Um... do you have a bandaid?"

"Why?" Kurt asked, euphoria turning to panic. "Did I bite you?"

Blaine let out a squeaky giggle. "No. I just scraped my knee," he leaned in close until their lips were barely touching, "falling for you."

Kurt paused, realisation slowly filling his gaze as he laughed affectionately. "How long have you been waiting to use that one?"

Blaine hummed. "Since the day we met."

Two years later, Kurt traded in his old copper ring for a white gold wedding band, and a very, _very_ real husband.

**Author's Note:**

> yaaaay what a cheesy ending!!! 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed reading this! i personally think it's quite cute!! big big big thank you to my wonderful friends EJ (kuhlaine), Beth (blaineskurt), Emily (dizzywhiz/kurtstinypurse), and Aly (blurglesmurfklaine) for helping me decide what way this fic would end (there was an alternate version where Kurt was widowed it was a whole thing)!!! and thank you for listening to me while i scream, i appreciate u all endlessly. 
> 
> comments and kudos are very very much appreciated!!! i read and cherish every single one! 
> 
> if y'all also wanna follow me on tumblr or twitter i'm @byebyeblainey on both :)
> 
> stay safe everyone!!  
> -Brit xx


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